


And I Will Sit Close To You

by OctopusQueen



Series: But We’re the Greatest, They’ll Hang Us in the Louvre [10]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fluff and Angst, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Hospitalization, Light Angst, M/M, Married Couple, Married Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Married Life, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23381422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctopusQueen/pseuds/OctopusQueen
Summary: “I missed you too,” Richie set his own glasses down on his nightstand before turning back towards Eddie and wrapping him up in his arms. It had only been two weeks, but he had missed having Eddie in his arms like this. He would just hold him all day, every day if he could.“I wish I could have gone with you. Maybe next time.”Richie nodded eagerly. He’d actually had a quite nice time in London during the brief moments when he had a minute to just explore and enjoy himself, but even the parts that were good he knew would have been improved with Eddie there.He supposed that’s how he knew he was really in love. Nothing in his life really felt complete unless he was with Eddie.Another little fic set in the universe of But We're the Greatest, They'll Hang Us in the Louvre, it's meant to take place after Our Days and Nights are Perfumed with Obsession, but that's not really relevant and it can also stand on its own. Unfortunately there's no smut in this one, just a bunch of fluff and domestic stuff and a little dash of angst and hurt/comfort, but of course with a happy ending (duh).
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: But We’re the Greatest, They’ll Hang Us in the Louvre [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654378
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know everyone is kind of in a weird place right now, but I'm really hoping this will be a distraction and maybe brighten up someone's day. Stay safe y'all, and keep quarantining.
> 
> Title of this one comes from the song 'Hard Feelings' by Lorde, I decided to keep up with the Lorde theme in this universe.
> 
> And as usual major thanks to bebe8s and exercisingpotato. Y'all are heroes.

Richie’s eyes blinked open as the lights in the airplane’s cabin came on, pulling him out of his light slumber. He looked out the window to see he was indeed on the ground and no longer up in the sky, and slid a hand up under his glasses to rub over his tired eyes as the impossibly perky flight attendant welcomed him to Chicago O’Hare. 

There was a painful but unsurprising crick in his neck from the way he’d been leaning up against the window of the airplane, hence why he’d been trying to stay awake for the ten hour flight. But eventually exhaustion had taken over.

He eagerly jumped up once the ‘fasten seatbelt’ light was switched off, so very happy to no longer be folded into his seat that he almost banged his head on the ceiling above him.

Planes were definitely not designed for people over six feet tall.

He mused that this probably why most people with money chose to fly by private jet, but Richie just wasn’t that kind of guy. Sure, he’d take a first-class upgrade whenever he could, but the idea of jetting all around the world on a private plane and sipping champagne just seemed a bit too douchey, even by his standards.

Plus Eddie would probably have a fit over the environmental repercussions of him flying by private jet.

He filed off the plane, thanking the flight crew on his way out and tossing his bag over his shoulder, thankful to be back on solid ground, and particularly thankful to be back on the ground in Chicago.

He’d been across the pond for two weeks, making his London debut with his newest standup special. He’d only actually done three nights of the show, but of course his team had taken full advantage of his presence in London to book him solid on various shows and events in the area. Between the talk show appearances, the social media outings, and the shows themselves, he hadn’t gotten more than five hours of sleep a night since he touched down in Heathrow. He was exhausted, and jet-lagged, and his neck still hurt, and he just wanted to get home.

Once he was outside, Richie whipped out his phone to order an Uber, groaning and grumbling at the surge pricing for the airport. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it, it was the  _ principle  _ of the thing, dammit.

Eddie had wanted to come pick him up, and as much as it had tempted him, Richie insisted on taking an Uber instead. The flight landed at three in the morning, and he didn’t want Eddie driving all the way out to O’Hare that late.

“Richie?” the driver inquired out the window as he pulled up to the curb.

“Yep,” he checked the license plate before hopping in the back with his bag.

The streets were blissfully clear at this time of night, and Richie fought not to fall back asleep as he was driven to his new house.

He and Eddie had moved just a few months prior; they had a lot of new money pouring in since Richie’s Comedy Central special had been such a smash hit. It wasn’t even that they were desperate for a move, they’d liked their old house and their old neighborhood. But then one of Eddie’s clients had mentioned they were selling their house, a house that Eddie had visited a few times throughout their business relationship, and the place was  _ gorgeous _ . So gorgeous that Eddie hadn’t even dreamed they could actually afford it until he casually mentioned the place to Richie one night and Richie had looked up the listing to find that it very much was in their price range, at least now that Richie had the signing bonus from his Netflix deal in their bank account.

Richie smiled sleepily as the driver pulled up in front of his new place. Sometimes he couldn’t even believe his good fortune. He really did have it all: the beautiful house, the fancy car, the loving husband.

Well, it wasn’t all just good fortune. He worked hard, and he worked a lot - hell he worked himself half to death sometimes - which was something he remembered quite well when he got out of the Uber and was so tired he needed a minute to steady himself before walking up the porch and into his house.

He closed the door quietly behind him, flipping off the porch lights Eddie had left on for him, before starting to tip-toe down the hall. He made his way up the stairs, passing the row of their wedding photos, which had been the first thing they’d hung on the walls upon moving in.

The new house was bigger than their old one; Richie and Eddie now each had their own home office and they had two small guest bedrooms in addition to their bedroom, as well as a home gym.

Eventually Richie made his way to the master bedroom and pushed the door open, his heart immediately melting at the sight in front of him.

Eddie was sound asleep, but he had clearly been trying to stay awake for Richie to get home. His bedside lamp was still turned on and he was propped up against the headboard, open book in his hand, reading glasses askew on his face. 

Richie creeped forward into the room, trying not to wake him as he turned the lamp off and carefully removed Eddie’s glasses before walking around to his own side of the bed and setting down his bag on the floor. He pulled off his jacket before he toed off his shoes and unbuckled his belt, bending down and standing on one leg to pull his pants off.

This, of course, caused him to lose balance and fall onto the floor with a dull thump, tangled in his own pants.

“Fuck,” he hissed quietly, wrestling his way out of his pants, still on the floor.   
  


“Rich?” he heard Eddie’s voice above him from the bed, and he heaved a sigh.

“Yeah babe. Sorry I woke you.”

Richie grabbed onto the side of the bed to pull himself up and slid under the covers next to his husband, happily accepting the kiss Eddie planted on his lips.

“It’s okay,” Eddie yawned and curled up on Richie’s chest. “I was trying to stay awake so I could see you tonight. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Richie set his own glasses down on his nightstand before turning back towards Eddie and wrapping him up in his arms. It had only been two weeks, but he had missed having Eddie in his arms like this. He would just hold him all day, every day if he could.

“I wish I could have gone with you. Maybe next time.”

Richie nodded eagerly. He’d actually had a quite nice time in London during the brief moments when he had a minute to just explore and enjoy himself, but even the parts that were good he knew would have been improved with Eddie there.

He supposed that’s how he knew he was really in love. Nothing in his life really felt complete unless he was with Eddie.

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too.”

He pressed a final kiss to the top of Eddie’s head, and then fell asleep immediately, warm and safe in his home, wrapped in silk sheets and holding the love of his life.

-

Eddie had almost gotten used to waking up alone in his and Richie’s bed, and when he first blinked awake it didn’t immediately register with him as unusual that Richie wasn’t there.

Then the events of last night came flooding back into his sleepy brain. His husband was back.

He happily climbed out of bed and started down the stairs, yawning and stretching and following the sounds and smells coming from the kitchen.

The kitchen had been one of Eddie’s favorite features of the new house, it was big and bright and full of open-space, but he mainly liked it because he and Richie had repainted it themselves when they’d moved in. It had originally been an awful dull yellow, and when Eddie had been over to meet with his clients when they lived here, he had always imagined that if he lived in this house he would repaint it a lovely powder blue.

Of course, once they did move in and decided to paint it, Richie had fought him on the color every step of the way. Eddie eventually prevailed, mainly because he had no qualms about making a scene in Home Depot when Richie kept showing him swatches of increasingly obnoxious bright colors that looked like they belonged in a child’s box of fingerpaints.

Richie had finally relented and they’d gone home with five cans of Angel’s Wings, but of course he’d given Eddie plenty more problems during the painting itself. What should have been a three-hour project had stretched into an entire day, between Richie flicking paint at Eddie, Eddie smearing paint on Richie’s glasses, Richie pulling Eddie down off the ladder for a kiss that was only a ruse to dot some paint on his nose with his finger. When they’d finally finished late that night they’d gotten takeout and ate in the middle of the floor on the old sheets they’d laid out, giggling and kicking each other with paint-splattered toes.

Even when Richie was away on tour, Eddie could walk into the kitchen by himself and immediately feel his presence just by looking around at the paint job they’d done together. It comforted him in the absence of his lover.

Richie was at the stove when he came in, already showered and dressed and scrambling eggs and frying up bacon.

“Morning babe,” he called over his shoulder when he noticed Eddie in the doorway.

“Morning,” Eddie responded, walking up behind Richie and wrapping his arms around his middle, burying his face between Richie’s shoulder blades and inhaling deeply. “You’re up bright and early.”

“Yeah, guess I’m still on London time,” he cracked another egg as he slipped into an exaggerated Cockney accent. “Time to make ya a bloody good breakfast, innit?”

Eddie mumbled an annoyed protest at the impression, but couldn’t help but chuckle a bit too.

“I think we’re fresh out of biscuits and clotted cream, but we probably still have some tea around here somewhere from when Mike went to Taiwan, Mr. Beauregard.”

“Ugh, no more tea,” Richie groaned, dropping the persona. “Those dumb Brits seriously need to learn what coffee is. It’s the 21st century, get with the freaking program guys.”

“Now coffee we have no shortage of,” Eddie pressed a kiss between Richie’s shoulders before heading over to the coffee maker to start brewing a pot, unable to contain his smile at Richie’s offkey whistling.

God, he’d missed this. He’d missed having Richie here in the morning. He’d missed having Richie here  _ period _ . Their new house was lovely, but it was awfully big, and this was the longest he’d had to be here by himself since they’d moved in. He had to admit that he’d gotten awfully lonely these last two weeks.

But now, here in their beautiful, bright kitchen, the kitchen they’d painted together, talking and laughing and making breakfast together, it felt like everything was back in place again. His heart was so full when he was with his husband.

Unfortunately, he was pulled abruptly from the moment by the sound of Richie’s phone ringing.

Richie, sounding equally annoyed at the interruption, snatched his phone up from the counter next to him and slid the icon to answer it.

“Yeah man, what’s up?”

Eddie stepped in easily to finish cooking breakfast as Richie took his phone call, and by the end of the call Richie was shaking his head and rubbing his temple, face scrunched up in a physical depiction of stress.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll be there.”

Eddie turned off the stove and plated the food.

“Fuck,” Richie sighed out as he hung up, dropping the phone back down on the counter and glaring at it angrily. “They want me to come in today. I guess they want to go over some of the reviews from the special, then we have to go over my talk show appearances, and then we still have to make some decisions about the Netflix deal, like where we wanna film the special and whether we should do it earlier in the tour or later, and then they’re also talking about adding some more tour dates but we have to figure out all the demographics for the locations, plus the social media guy wants to have a meeting…”

“It’s fine, babe,” Eddie could practically hear the headache forming inside of Richie, and he rubbed his arm soothingly before carrying their plates of breakfast over to the table, Richie trailing behind him, smiling apologetically.

They’d been planning on enjoying the day together, just the two of them. Eddie had even taken the day off work so they could spend some quality time together now that Richie was back, but it looked like their little celebration was going to have to be postponed for now.

“I’m really sorry, baby,” Richie added as they both sat down. “I really wanted to just… be with you today.”

Richie slumped down into his seat, shoulders hunched.

“Don’t slouch,” Eddie chastised, digging into his food. “It’s really okay, baby. I can take a half day tomorrow and we can go out to dinner.”

He reached over to grab Richie’s hand on the table.

“I’m just glad you’re back,” he smiled at Richie as Richie smiled down at their intertwined hands. “And besides, I know for a fact you’d rather be with me than at any of those dumb meetings.”

Richie laughed and finally picked up his own fork to eat.

“Trust me, I would. Send me a couple nudes, maybe? Help me get through the day?”

“I suppose that could be arranged.”

-

Eddie pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop near their house, taking a spot at the end to minimize the chance of anybody scratching the new Escalade Richie had bought him as a birthday gift. He’d decided to go into the office for a bit since Richie had to work anyway, but he was happy to take his time getting there. Work had been slow lately anyway since he didn’t have any major clients right now, but he could dig into some of the mindless paperwork that had been sitting on his desk for a week.

“Hi Eddie!” the girl behind the counter, Martha, greeted him brightly as he came in, and he smiled at her in response. “The usual?”

“Yep. Thanks Martha.”

Employees tended to remember his and Richie’s orders whenever they frequented a place, which Eddie definitely considered to be one of the best perks of being married to a celebrity.

He paid for his latte and dropped some money in Martha’s tip jar, checking his email on his phone while he waited.

“I watched Richie’s James Corden interview on Youtube earlier,” Martha added as she fixed up his coffee. “Is he still in England?”

“No, he actually just got back in late last night.”

“That’s great. Hope to see him back in soon.”

Eddie smiled at her before turning back to his phone. He had a few messages from work, which he briefly glanced at and left to be read more thoroughly when he got into the office. He also had a few new messages in the group chat he had with the Losers, which he was exasperated to see were just more pictures of Bev and Ben’s new dog.

It was a cute dog, and he was happy for them, but Richie had been bugging him for a while about wanting to get a dog. He’d stopped momentarily because he’d gotten so busy with work, but when Richie saw these messages of Bev and Ben playing and snuggling with their adorable little fur baby, he was surely going to start all over again. 

Eddie noted that Richie hadn’t opened the message yet, but he undoubtedly would soon, and Eddie would probably have links to three pet adoption websites in his email by the time he got to the office.

It wasn’t that Eddie didn’t like dogs, he just didn’t want to have to take care of it by himself all the time while Richie was away, and Richie was away more and more lately.

“Thanks,” Eddie said as he accepted his latte, shoving his phone back in his pocket with a sigh.

Martha leaned down to the other barista, a new girl Eddie hadn’t seen before.

“That’s Richie Tozier’s husband,” she explained in a loud whisper, and Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the small gasp from the other girl as he walked back out of the coffee shop.

Having a famous husband certainly had its drawbacks, but it had its perks as well.

Eddie climbed back into his Escalade, sipping his latte, made just the way he liked it, before starting the car and backing out of the space, starting the drive towards his office.

He’d just pulled off the highway when his phone rang. The number displayed on the screen on his dash, and he furrowed his brow at it.

“Chicago St. Mary’s Hospital,” he murmured questioningly. What the hell did they want?

Figuring it was probably something for work, he hit the button on his steering wheel and answered in his best customer-service voice.

“Edward Tozier speaking,” he took a sip of his latte, one hand still on the wheel.

“Hello Mr. Tozier,” a woman’s voice spoke calmly on the other end. “This is the Emergency Department at Chicago St. Mary’s Hospital. You are listed as an emergency contact for… Richard Tozier?”

A loud honk next to him jolted Eddie back into reality, making him realize he had been drifting into the other lane. He quickly pulled over into a random parking lot and stopped the car, one hand still holding his latte in a vice grip.

“Are you there, Mr. Tozier?”

“Y-yeah,” Eddie breathed out, staring at the number on his dash as if he could make it disappear, as if he could make all of this just stop happening so he wouldn’t have to try to sort out all the raging thoughts and emotions that were coursing through him. “Yeah, I’m here. Richie… Richard Tozier is my husband.”

“Okay Sir, your husband is currently admitted in our Emergency Room here at St. Mary’s, would you be able to come down here this afternoon?”

Eddie tried to speak, he really did, but no words would come out. He could only gape at the number displayed on his dash, mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a stupid fish.

“Are you still there, Mr. Tozier?”

“Yeah,” Eddie squeaked out. “Yeah, I can come now.”

“Okay, will you be needing our address or any directions?”

Eddie shook his head, momentarily forgetting that he was talking on the phone and this person could not see him.

“No,” he quickly added. “No, I can get there. How… I mean, what’s going on? What happened?”

“I’m afraid I cannot release any information to you over the phone for legal reasons, Mr. Tozier, but as soon as you come down we will have a member of our staff speak to you and give you all the information we have.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head sharply. 

_ There’s no need to panic _ , he told himself unconvincingly.  _ It’s probably nothing. Panicking isn’t gonna do any good. _

“Okay… okay…. okay,” he repeated, more to himself than to the woman on the phone, trying to calm himself down enough to pull his car back onto the street. “Okay, I will be right there.”


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is part 2, just a couple little notes for housekeeping:  
> 1\. I went a tiny bit wild with the medical stuff just because this is kind of my area. I guess this is what happens when healthcare workers write fanfic...  
> 2\. There are some major tears in this, there's also a lot of fluff and it has a very happy ending, but I understand a lot of people are in a weird place right now, so if you don't want to read something that's sad I won't be offended at all if you skip this one.  
> 3\. Thank you bebe8s and exercisingpotato

Eddie walked quickly through the double doors into the Emergency Department, blinking furiously as he was assaulted by the harsh fluorescent lighting.

Everything felt too bright, too loud, it was like there were just too many people, too many voices…

“Eddie!” he heard a shout coming from somewhere to his left, and recognized the young woman who worked as a receptionist at Richie’s agency.

He walked to her swiftly, trying to tune everything else out and just focus on the one familiar face.

“What’s... what’s happening?”

“I don’t know. He just walked in the front door and collapsed. I called 911 right away. They won’t tell me anything because I’m not family, but I still wanted to wait until you got here, just so, ya know, someone was here...”

She wrung her hands, looking nervously off to the side and chewing her lip. Eddie placed a hand on her shoulder in a way that he hoped was comforting, even though he knew his hand was shaking like a leaf.

“Thank you. Thank you for staying with him. It’s okay, I’m here now.”

He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a look that he could only hope conveyed his gratitude, but she just nodded and scurried off, clearly eager to extract herself from this whole situation.

Eddie looked after her gratefully, taking a moment to chastise himself for the fact that he didn’t actually know her name, before heading up to reception.

“Edward Tozier,” he reported to the nurse behind the counter, hating the way his voice cracked. “Here for Richard Tozier.”

The nurse nodded, her face a mask of customer-service politeness.

“I’ll let the doctor know you’re here and he’ll be right out to talk to you. Have a seat for now, sweetie, and help yourself to some coffee.”

Eddie collapsed into a nearby plastic chair, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his face fall into his hands.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…” at first he thought he’d just been saying it in his head, but he soon realized he was saying it out loud, repeating it over and over again like a crazy person.

He couldn’t bring himself to care what he looked or sounded like right now.

“Mr. Tozier?”

Eddie shot out of the chair and ran towards the source of the voice, a tired-looking doctor wearing wrinkled scrubs and holding a clipboard.

“Yes, I’m Eddie Tozier,” he gasped out, somehow breathless from just the brisk walk across the length of the room. “I’m here for…”

“Richard Tozier,” the doctor filled in for him and Eddie nodded.

“How is, I mean, what did, is he…” he stammered a bit, running his hands through his hair, but the doctor only patiently waited for him to trail off before continuing.

“My name is Doctor Reynolds. Mr. Tozier, your brother was admitted to our Emergency Department-”

“Husband,” Eddie snapped, cutting him off.

“I’m sorry?”

“He’s my husband,” he continued angrily, holding up his left hand to display the silver wedding ring. “Not my brother.”

“I’m… I’m very sorry Sir.”

He seemed to genuinely regret the mistake, and Eddie immediately felt guilty for snapping at him. His shoulders deflated, all the anger now dispersed from his body.

“No, I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and shifting nervously from one foot to the other. “Please, what… what can you tell me? What happened?”

The doctor nodded at him kindly before continuing, still looking sincerely apologetic.

“Your husband was officially admitted to our Emergency Department because of a sudden onset of syncope, which is basically medical-speak for saying he fainted. From the accounts of the people who were there when he collapsed, he was only unconscious for a matter of seconds, definitely under a minute before he came to, but a sudden loss of consciousness like that can be a symptom of other medical problems, so we brought him into the ER. He then had another brief loss of consciousness about twenty minutes after he was admitted. We’ve run some tests, and to put it simply, your husband has had a mild cardiac event. Now, I want to be very clear about this: this was  _ not  _ a heart attack, because that’s usually what people think when they hear the words ‘cardiac event’. However, we’ve done an EKG, and there is a lot of strain on his heart, and his blood pressure is definitely above a healthy level for his age. Both of these things are likely contributors to his abrupt syncope today. Basically, what we need to do is take this as a warning sign; these things can be precursors to more serious cardiac issues like a spontaneous aortic dissection, or sudden cardiac arrest, or even a stroke. We will most definitely be prescribing him some daily medication that will help to keep his blood pressure under control, but it’s equally important that he take some major steps in his daily life to reduce stress. It’s crucial that he lessens the strain on his heart. He’s currently resting; we can’t discharge him until his heart rate goes down a bit more, so we gave him a mild sedative to help him relax. When he wakes up, I’d be happy to discuss things further with both of you, and the three of us can talk together about some of the potential lifestyle changes we can make to ensure that this does not happen again.”

Eddie’s brain worked in overdrive to process the massive amount of information that had been unloaded onto him. He blinked furiously, almost like he was trying to hold back tears, but no tears were coming. It was as if every function of his body had shut down. All he could do was stand, and stare, and blink.

He stammered a bit, trying to force syllables into words, and words into coherent sentences. The doctor only waited, patiently, still looking at him kindly with tired eyes.

“Can… can I see him?” His voice sounded softer than it ever had before. He almost felt like he was a child again, like he was being confronted by his controlling, overbearing mother. He felt small. Weak. Helpless.

“Of course you can,” the doctor responded easily, matching the volume of Eddie’s voice with a soft, sympathetic tone before turning and leading Eddie through the double doors and down a long hallway.

Eddie trailed after him, focusing his gaze on the center of the doctor’s back, too overstimulated to try to look anywhere else, forcing one foot in front of the other until they came to a stop in front of a hospital room.

“Like I said, he’s currently resting. Once the sedative wears off and he’s conscious again, we’ll see how his heart rate looks and hopefully we can discharge him so you can take him home. We’re also continually monitoring his heart rate while he’s out, just in case he has another episode,” the doctor pushed open the door to the room and let Eddie step inside. “If there are any problems, or if you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to alert a member of our staff.”

Eddie mumbled a brainless sentiment of gratitude as the doctor closed the door behind him, now focused only on the hospital bed in front of him, specifically on his husband lying in it.

Richie… actually looked okay, at least from the neck up. He was asleep, so his face was relaxed, with no wrinkles of worry or stress on his forehead. His eyebrows weren’t knitted together, his eyes weren’t squeezed shut aggressively, and his mouth wasn’t downturned in exhaustion. He looked peaceful, almost blissful, which was a way he rarely looked these days, unless he was sleeping.

From just his face, it almost looked like everything was normal. Like he’d just caught Richie napping on the couch during the day.

He would always snap a photo when that happened. He had an entire album on his phone that was just pictures of Richie sleeping. If Richie knew about it, he’d probably have a fit.

For a moment, Eddie just focused on his face. If he did that, he could almost pretend the rest of it wasn’t real.

It was from the chin down that the problems started. Wires disappeared under the neck of the hospital gown Richie was wearing, and the collar was low enough for Eddie to see they had shaved his chest to attach the monitors to his skin. The wires fed into a machine at his bedside that was beeping periodically. He was covered in a thin, itchy-looking blanket from the waist down, but his left arm was resting on top. An IV was inserted in his hand, which was attached to a bag of fluid hanging next to him. Additionally, he had a heart-rate monitor clipped to his finger, which also fed into a machine at his bedside.

Because both the IV and the monitor were on his left hand, they were on the same hand as his wedding ring, and for some reason this small detail was what finally made silent tears start pouring down Eddie’s face. Just seeing that silver band there, resting right up against the medical tape that was holding his IV in place, halfway covered by the wire that was connecting his heart-rate monitor… it was just too much for Eddie in his current state.

He clapped a hand over his mouth as a sob erupted out of him, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, willing this to not be real. When he opened his eyes, he wouldn’t still be looking at his husband lying unconscious in a hospital bed. When he opened his eyes, they’d be back in their kitchen, in their  _ home _ , cooking breakfast and drinking coffee and talking and laughing and kissing, planning their special day together to celebrate Richie’s return from London.

But because this was real life, he opened his eyes to find the same sight before him: the love of his life, the man who owned his entire heart, lying in the hospital, hooked up to machines.

Part of him, a small, cowardly part that he hated, wanted to just turn and run out the door and just keep running until he couldn’t run anymore. This was just too much. It was all too scary.

But this was Richie. He had been Eddie’s husband for ten years. His boyfriend for five years before that. And his best friend for another ten years before. Richie had stood by him through absolutely everything. He’d always given Eddie everything he had to give, over and over again throughout the years.

He grabbed the plastic chair that was next to the door and pulled it up to the side of Richie’s bed, sinking down into it, eyes still glued to Richie’s face as he watched him slowly breathe in and out.

Eddie tentatively reached for Richie’s hand, careful not to disturb either the IV or the monitor as he gently wrapped his own hand around Richie’s and stroked a thumb over the cold metal of Richie’s ring, his own wedding band now resting against Richie’s fingers. He looked down at their hands for a moment, his small and delicate hand covering Richie’s large, sturdy one. His eyesight was growing blurry from the tears that were still pouring freely down his cheeks.

“Richie,” he choked out finally, raising his free hand up to his face to wipe away his tears before dragging his hand slowly back through his hair, fresh tears already rolling down his cheeks.

“Richie… Richie…” he repeated his name in a strangled whisper. “Richie… please.”

He pulled his hand out of his hair and laid it flat on Richie’s chest, trying to ignore the feeling of the hard plastic monitors on his chest and instead focus on just the slow rise and fall, proving that he was okay, he was okay, he was  _ okay _ .

Eddie repeated it to himself over and over in his head,  _ he’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay _ , but it wasn’t doing any good. Another sob wracked his body and his chin fell down to his chest.

“Richie... please. Please, you can’t do this. You can’t do this to me. You… you have to be okay. You have to get better. You have to get better, Richie.”

Eddie slumped over in the chair, his arm rested on his knee as he cradled his face in his hand. The rational side of him was aware of how silly it was for him to be talking to Richie like this when he wasn’t even conscious. He knew what he must look like, like something out of a god-awful Lifetime movie: a desperate, sobbing wife monologuing to her comatose husband. He’d always found it to be a ridiculous cinematic trope, but now that he’d started, now that he was actually here in this situation, he found he couldn’t stop.

“You have to be okay, Richie. I need you to be okay. I need you so much. I… I… fuck, I know this isn’t about me, but I fucking  _ need  _ you, I really do. I don’t know what I’d do without you anymore. I… I don’t even know who I  _ am _ without you anymore.”

Eddie lifted up his head to look at Richie’s face again, still peacefully sleeping, and he reached a trembling hand up to barely ghost over his cheek before lowering it down to his upper arm, wrapping his fingers around Richie in a tight grip, almost as if he were afraid to let him physically slip from his grasp.

“Please be okay, Richie,” his voice was a whisper again, and his eyes were blurred with a fresh wave of tears. “Please, please, please, just be okay. I’ll… I’ll do anything, if you’ll just be okay again. I’ll take time off work to go with you on all your tours. I’ll go on every single one. We… we can repaint the kitchen one of those awful colors you wanted. Fuck, we can repaint the whole fucking house, make each room a different color, make each goddamn wall a different color, if that’s what you want. We can paint the whole house neon green. We can make it glow in the dark. We… we…”

Eddie huffed out a laugh through his tears and threw his head back, looking up at the bright fluorescent light on the ceiling.

“We can get the fucking dog, dammit. We can get ten dogs, and I’ll take care of every single one of them. I don’t even care anymore, it doesn’t matter, none of it matters, just… please. Please be okay. That’s all I care about. Please, Richie.”

Another round of tears cut off his monologue, leaving him sobbing uncontrollably into his own hand, unable to form any words other than choking out the occasional ‘Richie’ and ‘Please’.

The tears came in waves for a while after that, and he alternated between stroking Richie’s hair, touching his chest, and wiping away his own tears with his free hand, his left hand still firmly wrapped around Richie’s, never once loosening his grip.

He was in the process of wiping tears from his cheeks when he felt Richie’s hand squeeze back, so faintly that at first he wondered if he’d just imagined it, but then he looked up at Richie’s face to see that his eyes were now open, just barely, still droopy with sleep, but definitely awake.

“Hey, kitten,” Richie murmured, his voice sounding a bit dry.

Eddie choked out a wet laugh, but smiled through his tears. He always protested valiantly against Richie’s pet names for him, and that was one that made him particularly irate, a fact which Richie knew all too well and frequently weaponized in their arguments.

Eddie swallowed hard; even though he’d been talking almost nonstop for the past several minutes, he now strangely found it difficult to form words again.

“Hey,” he finally rasped out in response.

Richie reached up with his free hand to cup Eddie’s cheek, thumb brushing over to wipe away the tear that had just begun to roll down his face. Eddie couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, leaning in to Richie’s touch slightly. His hand was warm, and it felt strong and sturdy as it held the side of his face. 

He gazed down at Richie, he was still blinking as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the hospital room, and his eyes looked a bit glassy, clearly still foggy from the drugs.

“Hey,” Richie mumbled, still a little raspy. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. I’m okay. I’m fine.”

Eddie had to put all his effort into forcing back the tears that were threatening to wrack over his body again. He squeezed his eyes shut, raising a hand to place over top of Richie’s, holding it comfortingly against his cheek like a child with a blanket.

“Richie,” he choked out tearfully. “Richie, you can’t do this to me.”

“Can’t do what to you, baby?”

“You can’t… you can’t leave me. I… I can’t… you just…. please… please.”

Richie turned over his hand that was still on the bed so he could lace his fingers with Eddie’s.

“Hey, hey Eddie… babe. Just look at me.”

Eddie forced his eyes open to look at Richie’s face again. He looked much more alert, and was now looking at Eddie with a serious expression.

“Eddie, it’s going to be okay. I promise you that. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Not for a long time.”

He squeezed Eddie’s hand, looking deep into his eyes, holding his gaze, unblinking until he finally saw Eddie nod in acknowledgement of his words. Once he did, he let his eyes fall closed again, and Eddie released his hold on Richie’s hand, allowing him to remove it from Eddie’s cheek and draw it back through his own hair.

There was a somber moment between them, but it lasted under a minute before Richie broke the tension in the way only he could.

“Also, I really hope you’re actually my husband. I don’t have my glasses on so I can’t be sure.”

Eddie choked out yet another wet laugh and grabbed Richie’s glasses off the bedside table. He took a moment to wipe them on his shirt out of habit before placing them back on Richie’s face.

“Better?” He asked, trailing a hand down Richie’s cheek.

“Better.”

They smiled at each other, Richie’s eyes still sleepy, Eddie’s still glassy with tears.

“Mr. Tozier, glad to see you’re awake,” the doctor from before poked his head in the door before walking in all the way and closing the door behind him. He looked every bit as exhausted as before, but was still wearing a kind expression. “How are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling?” Richie sat up in bed, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “Hm, how do I put this… you know that scene in that movie ‘Forever Young’ when Mel Gibson gets cryogenically frozen and wakes up after forty years-”

Eddie cut him off with a light whack to the shoulder, but the doctor only smiled and chuckled slightly at his answer.

“Yes, that would be the drugs talking. It should mostly wear off within the hour, but it would be best if you didn’t drive today if possible. We do have cab service in front of the hospital if you’ll be needing it.”

“It’s okay, I can drive us,” Eddie responded to the doctor, smiling at Richie adoringly.

“Great,” Dr. Reynolds continued. “I’m happy to say that your heart rate has gone down enough that we’re comfortable with discharging you now, but we would like to check your blood pressure again before you go. I’ve also got a prescription here for you. It's for a generic blood pressure medication that you will take daily, and the pharmacist will be able to give you details on how to take it when you get it filled. I’d also like to set up a follow-up appointment for you in one month’s time; ideally after a month on this medication we should see a decrease in your blood pressure, if not, then we may have to try a different one. Everybody responds differently to different medications, but this is usually a good one: very effective, few side effects.”

He extended an arm towards the both of them, and Eddie took the prescription from his hand, folding it and tucking it into his pocket, thanking the doctor, and taking a moment to appreciate his bedside manner. He was sure he must look an absolute wreck right now: eyes red and puffy, sniveling pitifully, but he still felt he was being treated with the utmost respect.

“Do you have any questions about taking that medication?”

Richie shook his head.

“Great. Now, let’s talk a bit about what we can do about your heart,” he turned his gaze over to Eddie. “I met your husband earlier-”

“Lucky you,” Richie interjected, making Eddie slap his shoulder again.

“... and I’m assuming you’d like to be a part of this conversation?”

Eddie nodded seriously. If there was anything to know about Richie’s health, he wanted to hear it.

“Okay then. As I said earlier, what you had was a mild cardiac event. We could potentially put you on blood thinners, which is what we would usually do after a heart attack, but I really don’t think that’s necessarily what we want to do here. I think it would be best if we explore other options first, primarily some lifestyle changes. Obviously healthy eating is important; try to avoid foods that are high in trans-fats, sodium, or cholesterol. Cutting back on red meat would be a good option, but if you do that then make sure you also start on a Vitamin B supplement. I’d also recommend some light exercise a minimum of twice a week. That could be taking a walk, going for a swim, or even a light jog or a brief workout on an elliptical or exercise bike. Anything that will get your heart pumping, but nothing too strenuous.”

He paused momentarily, waiting for both Richie and Eddie to nod in understanding before continuing.

“But really the most important thing is that you reduce stress. Other than your blood pressure and today’s episode, you are in excellent health, Mr. Tozier. Typically when we see heart issues with men your age, they either have a predisposed medical condition, or they have a lot of unmanaged stress. Since there are no medical conditions in your records, I’m assuming it must be stress. Is that something you have had issues with before?”

Eddie bit his lower lip and looked over at Richie, who was looking off to the side, avoiding eye contact with both Eddie and the doctor. Eddie squeezed his hand gently, and Richie finally turned to look at him, his brow furrowed and his mouth turned downward.

“Yeah,” he finally huffed out in response to the doctor. “Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

Eddie felt his eyes fill up with tears again, and he blinked furiously to keep them from falling out. He couldn’t break down right now, he just couldn’t. This was a time when he had to be strong for Richie.

But…  _ fuck _ .

Eddie inhaled a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut and hanging his head, trying to hide the tear that escaped his eye and was rolling down his cheek.

Richie had struggled with anxiety for as long as Eddie had known him. Sometimes it was worse, sometimes it was better, but it was always there in some capacity, always haunting him. All those sleepless nights fighting insomnia, all those times he’d been broken down in tears, wrestling with his own mind… 

And Eddie knew it had been worse lately. Ever since he’d signed that deal with Comedy Central and his work load had quadrupled, Eddie knew the stress of the job was getting to him, that he was sleeping less, agonizing more… 

He’d just never imagined it would come to this.

Eddie finally opened his eyes back up to look at Richie, only to see that he was crying now as well, tears pouring silently down his cheeks as he looked down at his own lap. 

Something about the sight of Richie crying flipped a switch inside of Eddie. He sat up straight and brushed away the tears from his own face before reaching over to wipe Richie’s away as well, the protective instincts within him having now kicked his self-pity out the door.

He’d almost forgotten Dr. Reynolds was in the room until he turned his head to see him still standing there, still wearing a kind smile as he waited for them to gather themselves.

The man had the patience of a saint.

“He’s always had problems with anxiety,” Eddie finally stepped in, filling in for Richie. “Ever since we were kids. It’s gotten really bad lately just because he’s got so much going on with work.”

Dr. Reynolds nodded in understanding.

“Have you ever seen a doctor about your anxiety? Have you ever been prescribed anything for it?”

Richie and Eddie both turned to look at each other, hesitant to answer.

“... yeah,” Eddie finally answered, once again stepping up to fill in the blanks for Richie. “A while back, he went to a doctor, and the doctor gave him a Xanax prescription.”

“And did you find that it helped at all?”

Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand, and he squeezed back.

“He, um, he never filled it. There’s… there’s a lot of pill addiction in his family, so he was worried about that.”

Dr. Reynolds only nodded again, jotting something down on his clipboard, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel his stomach twist in guilt. Should he have pushed Richie to fill the prescription? Would they be here, in this hospital, if he’d somehow just convinced him to take the Xanax? At the time he’d thought it was better to just be supportive of Richie’s decision, but now he wasn’t so sure. 

Now he was questioning everything.

Apparently sensing the distress that was coursing through both his patient and his partner, Dr. Reynolds quickly jumped back in.

“I completely understand the concern that you would have. Benzodiazepines have been proven to be habit forming, particularly in people with a family history of addiction. What I’m going to do is prescribe you some Sertraline. It's an SSRI, which tends to be less habit-forming, and I’m giving you a very low dose. I’d also highly recommend seeing someone regularly, a therapist or psychiatrist, who can help you to manage your anxiety so it won’t manifest in a physical ailment again.”

Eddie took this prescription as well, folding it and putting it in his pocket with the other.

“Additionally, I’d recommend considering some lifestyle changes to reduce stress. If possible, you should take some time off work, at least long enough to rest up and heal. Take a vacation somewhere that will relax you, or even just spend some time at home with your husband. Try to go at least a week without thinking about work at all. After that, you might want to consider incorporating some stress-reducing activities into your life: yoga, meditation, breathing exercises, that kind of stuff. Many of these things can be done from the comfort of your own home these days - there’s videos on the internet that can walk you through it. A creative outlet can also be helpful; try drawing or painting or even writing. I understand that your job also involves a lot of creativity, but it’s important to have some form of creative motivation that isn’t based out of necessity.”

Dr. Reynolds tucked his clipboard under his arm and folded his arms in front of his chest in a way that was casual, but not guarded. He looked back and forth between Richie and Eddie, giving them time to comprehend everything.

“Do you have any other questions? Either of you?”

Eddie shook his head slightly, feeling as though everything was quite clear. Scary, but still very clear.

Richie, to his surprise, raised his head up and made direct eye contact with Dr. Reynolds.

“Yeah, I actually do have a question.”

Dr. Reynolds raised his eyebrows slightly, and Eddie looked at his husband questioningly.

After a moment of silence, Richie finally asked, deadpan, and with the most serious of expressions, “When can we have sex again?”

“Oh! My! God!” Eddie threw his hands up in exasperation before burying them in his own hair to prevent himself from wrapping them around Richie’s neck and strangling him.

Dr. Reynolds only let out a genuine laugh.

“I cannot believe you just asked that,” Eddie chastised, but Richie only maintained his serious expression, face unbroken as he waited for a response.

“No, it’s okay,” Dr. Reynolds answered through his snickers. “Honestly, that’s the question everybody has, whether they actually ask it or not.”

Eddie continued to glare at Richie as he waited for the doctor to regain his composure.

“It would be best to avoid sexual activity for a little while, while your heart is still healing. I would abstain for a month to be safe. After that, however, having a healthy sex life is actually quite good for maintaining cardiac health.”

“Oh is that right, doc?” Richie turned to face Eddie, nudging his knee with his elbow, but Eddie only continued looking at Dr. Reynolds, not wanting to even acknowledge Richie.

“Can I actually just leave him here for a couple more days?” Eddie asked seriously. “Or can we at least sedate him again? I think I liked him better like that.”

Richie gasped in mock offense, and Dr. Reynolds chuckled again.

“Unfortunately we are going to have to discharge him; we do need the bed. One of our nurses will be right in to take a final blood pressure check, as well as to remove your IV and give you your discharge papers. It was lovely to meet you both.”

Richie and Eddie both thanked him profusely as he walked out the door, and then once he was gone Richie immediately went back to his usual routine of tormenting Eddie, poking at him and making obnoxious jokes.

A young nurse came in a few minutes later, momentarily breaking up their banter. She removed his IV and slapped on a bandage, then went to work removing the monitors on Richie’s chest. She pulled up the curtain to give Richie privacy as he changed out of his hospital gown and back into his clothes, handing Eddie his discharge papers in the meantime.

“Will you be needing a wheelchair to exit the facility, Mr. Tozier?” she asked through the curtain.

“What?” Richie scoffed. “No, of course I don’t. I’m-”

At that moment he pulled back the curtain and through that small action he lost his balance, stumbling forward slightly. Eddie grabbed his shoulders to steady him.

“I’ll be right back with that wheelchair.”

The nurse disappeared back out the door and Richie sharply shook his head, still trying to shake off the sedatives.

“You okay, babe?” Eddie asked, rubbing his shoulder gently.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s kinda like… you know that scene in Final Destination where the kid has a vision and then suddenly-”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie cut him off, and thankfully the nurse returned at that exact moment with the wheelchair, saving Eddie from wherever that was going.

He helped Richie down into the chair, then waved off the nurse’s offer of help and began pushing Richie himself. They rolled out the door and started out down the long hall that led back to the waiting room.

“So, about what the doctor said…” Eddie began.

“About sex?”

“No, not about sex, asshole,” Eddie took a hand off the wheelchair to whack the back of Richie’s head lightly. “About taking time off work while you heal. Will you be able to do that?”

Eddie swallowed hard, fearing the worst from Richie’s answer, but to his surprise, Richie just nodded immediately.

“The deal I just signed with Netflix has a health clause. It’s pretty long and complicated, but basically I’m allowed to delay things, or even cancel them, if I have proof that my health is at risk. Everything else can be put on hold. The tour can be pushed back, socials can take a backseat for a bit. I’ll have to put out some sort of statement, I can’t just disappear off the face of the earth, and besides it’s only a matter of time before it reaches the press that I was hospitalized, so it’s probably best to get ahead of that, or else it’ll just become even bigger of a headache once people start speculating all sorts of crazy stuff.”

Eddie nodded and hummed in response as he pushed Richie through the double doors and out into the waiting room. He knew what a big deal it was for Richie to completely take off of work like that. He was a bit of a workaholic; in fact, they both were. It wasn’t going to be easy for Eddie to take time off either, but he would do it a thousand times over if it meant helping Richie get healthy again.

He would do anything, absolutely anything, if it meant he would never have to get another call that his husband was in the hospital.

“I was thinking of going back to London,” Richie added, and Eddie’s brow furrowed in response. Wasn’t that in complete opposition to what he’d just said?

“Not to work,” Richie quickly clarified. “Just… to go. Just the two of us, for a week or so. I thought it could be a nice, relaxing vacation, like the doc said. I could show you all the sights: there’s this amazing British pub called The Peasant. The staff there were just incredible, and they did this great Sunday roast. And I found this adorable little pizza place called Harry’s, seriously the best pizza you’ve ever had in your life. Plus there was this little lounge in Hackney called The Last Tuesday Society that had this huge list of craft cocktails, I’d love to go back and try a couple more. And maybe we could take a walk around Regents Park, it's beautiful there, they have all these amazing flowers… he did say I should take more walks, after all.”

Eddie couldn’t help but quirk a smile as Richie rambled. The idea of spending a week in London with his husband sounded… well it sounded downright heavenly, to be honest. 

But he had something even better.

“Actually, maybe we should hold off on the vacation for now. At least for a month or so. I think we should just stay at home for a bit.”

Richie turned his head around in the chair, looking at Eddie questioningly. Eddie pushed him out of the waiting room to the front of the hospital before leaning his face down, lips brushing against Richie’s ear.

“You know, just long enough to housetrain the new dog.”

Richie wrapped a hand around to the back of Eddie’s head, pulling him in for a searing kiss that they didn’t break until a nurse tentatively approached to ask for the wheelchair back.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See?? I told you there'd be a happy ending!  
> I hope y'all liked it. Check back in the next couple days for the next installment in this universe: idk if y'all remember way back in the first installment when I briefly mentioned that Richie and Eddie had had a big fight back when they were dating, but the fic I'm working on right now is about that fight (well, half about the fight, and the other half just incredible makeup sex) so check back for that if it sounds appealing to you.  
> One more quick note: I lived in London for two years when I was doing my masters degree, and the places Richie was talking about are actually real and they were some of my favorite places in London. Fun little Easter Egg if anybody is familiar with London at all!


End file.
